Accept my pact, it works for the both of us

Motif had heard about the red panda by now, it was hard not to - WInter had told her in passing, and with some hint of scorn in her strange, clacking tones. Mostly to warn her that the tree-mouse was a scoundrel. Instead of deterring her, Motif was most curious, and in the mess of clean up after the fire, would find her way to the tree Winter had indicated, and stop by its base, looking up into its leafy foliage.

“Hello, Mr Kirby?” she asked, keeping to her politest tones. She had a request to make of the red bear-like creature. It was a very formal, very important question, and she would approach it with caution and trepidation. She would hate to scare him off, and lose her chance. A chance she had been waiting for.

None of the ravens had accepted her, and like Noir she had felt a pinch of jealousy when Poem had been chosen. Chosen as a companion, chosen as an heir. Her jealousy wasn’t as deep as Noir, she had her love to balance it. Still, it made her strive for this, and she shifted her feet as she waited cautiously for the tree-man to come down.